Time Zero
by TalkToMoon
Summary: Insanity is repeating one thing over and over again, while expecting a different result each time. Is it really possible to expect insanity from someone who struggles to have her wish granted?
1. Time Zero

Time Zero.

How many times had it been now.

The tenth time?

The twentieth time?

Perhaps the hundredth?

Perhaps it was the thousandth?

The answer was all too simple.

She had chosen not to remember.

She had lost count long ago of such things, and simply began to refer to it as X, Y or Z. Or AB. Or any other letter she deemed fitting. She had desensitized herself from feeling the pain, and refrained from remembering her past failures; She had learned, long ago, that counting was an easy way to lose herself in the sands of times long past.

Yet still, methodically, she had to do it. Her life was distorted around it, wrapped around the very idea that this was her destiny. This was her existence now; an endless repetition with only slight variation, to find the combination that would allow her to stop and rest.

An outside observer might take it to be the rambling work of someone insane. One who knew nothing would see nothing and understand nothing. Someone who stared at a murky pool, after all, would only see it as shallow, never seeing the bottom of its dark depths.

She had, she supposed, a few nuts loose in her head. Any other person might've gone cracked from the pressure. For all she knew, she was already insane.

"Alas, Yorick. I knew him, Horatio."

Wasn't that a surprise?

At least someone knew him, she thought. Or at least remembered him. How many times has it been already that she too had heard this?

Beneath her breath, she muttered the words in tandem.

"That was the real line that Shakespeare had said; evidently, it was to be a clever allusion of the audiences to a then-Elizabethan comedian during that time. Shakespeare knew how to play to his audiences well."

An endless nightmare.

How many breaths now until the bell rings?

How many more thoughts of hesitation would enter her head, just like before?

How much more sadness was she willing to take?

In the end, was she insane?

She could only wonder.

Over and over again

The bell rang, and abruptly, the teacher stopped talking. The class began to liven as the teacher sighed, erased the chalk writings on the blackboard, and gave final instructions.

"Be sure to remember what we've learned today."

She will. She will remember; this time here was her purgatory, where she could plan on her actions. This was her resting period, if she indeed rested at all. The lessons taught here not so much things she had learned, but things she had memorized over the course of her repetition. She could recite it eyes closed, and write it on the board.

She was no genius, at least not in literary arts; it was simply a natural result of her work.

She promptly rose from her seat, turned, and left. The class murmured around her like buzzing flies. She could not fault them. Over there, they'd be talking about…

"Hey, you won't to eat out with us?"

As if on cue, one of her classmates approached her. And, as always, she turned her down, firmly, but nicely.

"I'm sorry, but I have work to do. Perhaps another time."

She gave them a small bow, and continued on.

She was a lonely person, but there could be no other hope of success, if she did not do it alone.

She had tried to get help before, but it had not ended well. All too many times, it backfired on itself. They did not remember, and, in truth, usually did more harm than good.

So she had to do it alone.

She was cool.

Clean.

Efficient.

But alone.

Perhaps fate had something against her. Perhaps this was divine judgment.

Perhaps she was being childish about it. Like the flailing arms of a crying child against her bed, perhaps there was literally no way to stop her.

But she had to try.

That was her wish, after all.

She walked down the hall, her steps echoing in the corridor. The patter of her footsteps led her closer to the roof.

What would she find there, she wondered, almost a little curious.

But she dreaded the answer all the same. Is this the end then of her suffering?

It gave her a strange longing, of rest. Perhaps she could let go of her sadness then, and the stone wall she had erected as a defense against pain. Her face twitched a little, fluctuating slightly from the cold stare she usually gave the world.

Perhaps she could rest now.

Perhaps this was how she should have done it in the first place. No death, no sadness.

Patter. Patter.

Her steps on the stairs echoed loudly in her mind.

Oh, was it time for it to end then? Had her true wish been granted now?

Every step added a little excitement to her. Every move she made made her heart race. Standing before the roof doors, she could not help but feel both dread and joy at the possible outcome she was expecting.

_Would she not be a Magic Girl?_

_Perhaps saving Mami was the correct choice then. At least, in that way._

She recalled being tied up by ribbons, vainly struggling against them.

She had them constricted around her, wrapping around her form tightly. She remembered it, as she had all those other times. The first time, it had been nerve-wracking, a terrifying experience of helplessness and dread.

But she knew their true fate. She knew they would eventually be slack, shrivel and die. Their master would die soon.

Right before that instant, the ribbons would jerk in surprise.

And right as the ribbons jerked,

she slowly

and oh so slowly at that, she

slowly

slipped from its threads.

She followed the paths the three had taken before. There was Tomoe-san, her eyes locked in fear at the face before her, the dreadful face that was like a nightmare of a child. A clown face, ugly, lined with sharp rows of teeth. The visage of a toy gone mad.

And there was the teeth ready to gobble her up. Ready to slice her to bits.

She placed her trap, and went back to the ribbons. She aligned herself in its grasp once more, pretending to be shocked.

And waited.

She made sure those teeth were gone, and Tomoe-san was safe. She'd lined bombs along their rows, and as they were about to bite down, the teeth disintegrated. The blonde girl would be safe, and then, perhaps so would Madoka.

She would just have to see and hope, wouldn't she?

Trial and error, she thought to herself. But it had been so many times already.

The idea of rest, and the idea of abandoning her cold persona was both terrifying and appealing.

_Perhaps, now, we can truly be friends and continue?_

She opened the door, and looked.

There was Tomoe-san, her eyes a-flutter. She was happy (wasn't that a good sign?) There was Sayaka, also laughing.

And there was Madoka, smiling.

But there was something wrong.

_D-… don't tell me…_

There was something wrong.

The Incubator. Kyubey.

"So Madoka? Your wish?"

"See? Being a magical girl isn't bad," Mami interjected.

_N…_

_No._

_This wasn't how it should be?_

"That Witch was nothing. I could've taken it, no problem."

"Well, the next one's on you, Sayaka. I have to teach you guys how to do it properly, right? No room for error."

_M… Madoka_

"Ah, Akemi-san."

_Madoka… What was your wish?_

"That we could be friends until it ends."

"That's right. Me, Mami and Madoka will save this city from the witches."

_F… friends forever…?_

"Yeah. Too bad the wish doesn't include you."

And all throughout, the little Incubator smiled, as if in jest.

_I… see. _

_I will take my leave then._

"O-ooh. Homura-san?"

_It seems I have failed once more._

_A failure… till the end, huh?_

"I'm sure she doesn't mean to be that way, Sayaka."

"But she tried to—"

The rest were meaningless words that echoed in a time long forgotten. Homura punched the wall. It was in failure. Madoka was _Mahou Shoujo_. She had not succeeded. Saving Mami that way had only bolstered their confidence, and prolonged the little fantasy, and in doing so, had driven them to make their own wishes earlier, instead of having them stay clear from it altogether.

A failure.

A failure.

She clenched her fist.

How many times was it now?

No. Do not count.

It hurts to remember.

It cuts deep into the heart, and deep into the soul.

It was a dark thorn in her body, a clenching, wrenching pain inside her insides.

_I will save you, Madoka._

_I will save you from your fate._

Slowly, and surely, time began to melt the surroundings around her. The walls faded into darkness, the colors winking out of existence. The ground melted like liquid fire, and the sky seemed to fade and distort into twisted shapes, and the stuff of nightmares.

Homura Akemi had failed once more.

But here was another try.

Here was another chance.

Here was another number.

* * *

Whyhellothere~

TalkToMoon here. Hope you enjoyed the preview. Dunno when the next chapter will be up, but hey, I love Homura, and I love Mami~

Honestly found the concept of Homura's power(s) to be amazing, and so, in order to properly tribute (imo) the best character in the series, I decided to create a whole story about her.

It's a litle rough, it needs editing, and it needs fool-proofing~

But I'm giving it my 100%

If you liked it, please, leave a message, review, etc etc. Any and all feedback is appreciated.

Good night, take care and till next time!

~TalkToMoon


	2. Time X Begins

This was, in a sense, virtual immortality.

For Akemi, Homura, this _was_ endless life.

All the bruises she suffered, all the physical wounds, they disappeared, as if they were little more than smoke from a magician's hat.

She would be invigorated. Rejuvenated . Filled to the brim with new life once more, like some sort of vampire, or monster. The hurt she suffered would fade away, and sands of time in her hourglass would fill anew.

But it could not heal the emotional pain. Like a rot festering in a wound, it was in Homura's psyche, a twisting, wrenching pain just struggling to break free from her calm exterior.

But she could wait.

She could endure.

A moment of hell this was, for a chance to happiness.

A chance for a dream to come true.

* * *

At first, there was nothing. A simple alley, a closed off passage. Only dirt and grime stayed there, creeping up the walls and along the sides of the garbage can. Only rats, and bugs, and the gutters of the sewer.

But out of something dark and hopeless, can there be birthed a shining hope.

The walls of the alley distorted, as if bent out of shape. Reality tore itself apart, creating a tear, a flow passageway out of darkness and into the street. Time itself shook, and realigned, as Homura stepped out of both twisted fabric and malformed space, to the world she was beginning to understand more and more. It was a world she had seen born and die more than times than she could count.

Here was Homura Akemi, back, at the beginning.

How confusing it was, for her to witness the passing of time in reverse.

Melting time, much like molten steel.

Walls that burn and trickle, like lava on the floor.

Distortions along the passageway, bending and flowing like a tide of water.

It was staring at the face of something incomprehensible and coming out sane.

It would be useless to try to describe it. It was falling upwards. It was seeing music. It was a paradoxical thing in itself, an indescribable experience. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

It was enchanting and off-putting. It was seeing your best dream twisting into a horrible nightmare. It gripped Homura in a deadly vise, testing her iron will, almost breaking it.

This transition into real time always shocked Homura. It wasn't as simple as allowing time to pause. When she pauses time, all was still. Like a still portrait suspended in the air, and she, the artist, could do whatever she wants on the canvas that was life.

And she had many magnificent artworks, do not doubt. She painted bombs on Witches' faces. She drew large red slashes across their bodies. She opened the blank canvas that was their twisted body, and created her own masterpiece with sword, bullet and bomb. She created a macabre painting, worthy of being remembered.

But this… this was not art. Moving back in time was hellish rollercoaster of life in reverse.

Homura's knees buckled. Her body shook. Her entire being was sent into spasms as she struggled to right herself.

It was always strange. Perhaps this was a psychological aspect? A consequential shock to the time travel? Was she tired of it all?

Of course she was. Who wouldn't be? To see the birthing of another timeline as if it were little more than a movie. It would drive a man insane.

But she was no man. She was Puela Magi.

Something more, and something less.

She began to laugh, a cruel laugh that harsh and lifeless.

A joke.

A good joke.

"So we begin again," she whispered. She dusted her uniform once more, shaking away the imagined dust. She straightened her hair, brushed the locks away from her face, and she began to walk to her apartment once more.

It would still be a day before she would have to meet Madoka. She could use this day to plan, to tweak little details of life to make sure she would never reach the Incubator. Failing that, she would persuade Madoka to never be Puela Magi in the first place.

_But Homura, won't that be the greatest joke of your life? If in saving her, you completely disappear? Nyeheheheh poor Homura~_

A little voice in her head spoke up.

She ignored it. Paradoxes like those didn't exist.

What was the point of her wish then, if she fulfilled it in the end, and the world came to a standstill?

No. Homura Akemi believed that her wish could come true. It WOULD come true. But she would not thank Kyubey for it. He deserved no thanks.

Not after she had discovered the many hells he had forced all Puela Magi to go through.

She walked down the street way. The blinking neon lights flickered into existence as the sun began to set. She always appeared at the same time, and at the same place. Her route was always the same. Her steps were steps she had already followed ages ago.

Contrary to her young nature, she felt almost ancient compared to everyone else. She looked young to the passers-by. A man or two leered at her as she briskly walked by, a consequence to a school girl walking out at an unsafe time.

Her flawless skin tinged with the dying light of the sun. Her lips, soft and pursed, seemed to pucker, as if whistling a listless tune. She was the epitome of youth, a flower about to bloom.

It was dangerous, to be sure. Flowers were meant to bloom, but her flower was old beyond time. How much older did she feel now?

A man stopped in front of her, a grin on his face. A pervert, Homura guessed. Or a thief. Or both. The man smelled of smoke and gin, and the slick hair dripped with translucent swear. There was a cigarette in his hand, between his fingers.

This was the type of man who liked to pick flowers as they were in bloom, not out of any appreciation of them, but with more of a jealousy. Death for death's sake, you could say. He did it simply because he wanted to — a wretched human existence, destined only to prey on those weaker than himself. And that was what he thought Homura was, a weak little girl waiting to be taken.

"Hey little girl," he grinned. He pushed back his hair, threw his most terrifying grin. "Isn't it a little la—"

Homura disappeared from his sight. The man blinked several times in disbelief. She was simply gone. No poof. No dramatic disappearance. Just gone. He looked around warily, fear crossing his eyes, and fled. He would not see her again.

She had known that would happen. As easily as snapping her finger, she stopped time and walked past him. She didn't want to draw attention to herself. Changing things this early could often lead to drastic consequences later on.

She remembered. That man was someone she encountered each time without fail, whenever she jumped back. At first, she had humiliated him in public, calling the crowd's attention. Then, when she got repeatedly tired of his attention, she beat him up. Grown men could not stand up to Puela Magi.

But that had not been exactly correct.

"He would become a witch's victim, if I did that again, wouldn't he?" she whispered to herself

Yes, he would. The despair he got at being humiliated would make him an easy target to a witch's kiss. That, in turn, would only spread panic, as he would be missing for several days, before being found, bloodless and headless by one of the gutters.

Yes, it would be inconvenient to her plans. He was a pawn she could not move, and consequently, something she would ignore. She would place a similar pawn against it, stop its movements, and carry on her plan in this chess game.

_But it isn't so simple… There were so many variables to manipulate. So many things to fix. So many dates to remember. So. Many. Little. Things. To. Change._

She gritted her teeth at her thoughts. How cold was she, to think of human beings as little more than lines and dots now. Was this how far she was willing to give it all up?

Or would she sacrifice more?

Even more?

No. She wasn't heartless, she knew. She kept it hidden inside her, deep inside, in a place that no one could reach. Each little thing she did only tore at it. To keep it safe was to hide it under the armor of her cold demeanor.

But it hurt nonetheless, even if she pretended she couldn't feel it.

_This is all pretend, right?_

_All just a dream I can wake up from?_

Dreams are beautiful.

This was something less so.

She shut her brain down as she continued her trek. It wasn't far, but the thoughts she got made the journey seem long and arduous. The brooding she did only prolonged the menial things she had to do each time she went back. It made it almost unbearable.

_Unbearable._

_It's a bear that's able to be… un?_

She smirked to herself. The jokes she told herself were her way of coping. They were bad, and they were things she would never _EVER_ tell anyone else (not even to Madoka) but they were funny to her.

This was one of the regrets she had. She never got a music player to work while she was twisting time back, or stopping it. It would make things so much easier if she did. No more lonely treks or still pauses. Just music playing as she did her thing.

Wouldn't it be creepy though, to be in a hallway where time was at a standstill, and music was playing? To be in a place where you could see drops of water floating in mid-air, and hear only music? Somehow, it seemed eerie. Creepy. Artistic, but there as a shadow of fright lurking there.

It would be bad for Homura to see it. It was like the smile of a witch. Or the blank smile of the Incubator. There was something disconcerting about it. That in itself seemed rooted in time and space. Pausing time seemed to do nothing when the Incubator was around. That soulless smile, and those blank eyes. Those were things that not even Father Time could change.

Her thoughts carried her far enough. Her apartment loomed before her, a dark shadow lit by the street lamps around it. It was aged, European in style, at least outwardly. It served its purpose. This was her abode, her resting place. She knew its walls, knew the twists and turns inside it.

Swiftly, she entered her residence, and methodically brewed a cup of tea. The candles by the side flickered to life as she walked along the aisles; papers lined the walls, papers she had collected oh so carefully and tacked there, once before. She had forgotten when exactly (it had felt like a lifetime ago), but they were helpful.

She let the tea run a little as she methodically stared at the papers on the wall once more. This was information she had gotten about the witches she had faced. These were things she looked over again and again, things she memorized to know perfectly how to deal with them.

_I've read this so many times. Yet, I still don't feel confident enough to take them on, despite knowing everything._

The tea was done by the time she was finished reading. It was almost 8:00 at night when she poured herself a drink.

She quietly sipped a drink as she waited for the time. She wasn't a big fan, but she had acquired this taste from Tomoe-san. She found herself going back to it more and more, less on the flavor of it, as the bitter taste of the tea she had always made her grimace a little, and more on the fact that it was calming. Now, she found it was a good way to wait for time to pass.

In another time, Tomoe-san had been her… what, mentor? Friend? And yet, Mami was a hindrance to her efforts. She actively barred Homura's attempts to hinder Madoka's contract. In fact, it was probably even easier to get rid of Tomoe-san before even attempting to dissuade Madoka.

But Homura would not walk that line. Tomoe-san, Sayaka, and the others were not her enemy. They were simply unwitting victims of the Incubator.

And so was Homura. Unwittingly, she had placed herself in her enemy's clutches. Her wish had allowed her to escape, but… not entirely.

She sighed. 8:10. Twenty more minutes.

Homura found that time moved slower when she thought, but it moved even slower when she didn't think.

_Why does this all have to be so complicated, I wonder. Wouldn't it be just easier to tell Madoka not to make the contract in the first place, and simply come clean?_

Ha. Ha. Ha.

She had tried that before, as one of her first attempts. She had come clean and said it plaintly.

"Madoka, I came from a different time to save all of you."

Pfft. Homura found herself a little giddy inside. That had seemed so cheesy, like out of a sci-fi movie. It seemed poorly written, badly acted, and sounded horrible. Truth was stranger than fiction, but even what Homura said was on edging on borderline insanity.

And yet, Madoka had believed her, hadn't she? They were friends during that timeline, and Homura was able to protect her until the very end, when Madoka was, indeed, forced to make her wish, to save everything from darkness.

_Walpugris Night…_

It had not been pretty. The darkness had swept them all away, and Madoka had been forced to make her wish.

"Take the monster away so that it can never threaten us again!"

Had that been her wish?

It was close enough, anyway. The monster had vanished, but then, so had Homura's wish. She'd had to start over from there, and subsequently learned. The key to her wish did not so much lie on Madoka knowing it, and the future consequence if she made her wish, but on the very fact that Madoka should not want to make that wish in the first place.

If Madoka did not want to make a wish, if she did not want to sully her hands in a dangerous business, and if, indeed, she did not need to, then Homura's wish would come true then. Madoka would not become Puela Magi,

Having neither will nor need to do it, Madoka would remain an ordinary girl. Homura could protect her then.

Telling her about it only spurned the will to do it, not the need, as the _Walpugris _always appeared, on the dot, as Homura did. All natural outcomes that Homura had tried that came from telling Madoka about her own wish, only resulted in it failing.

Which was why Homura was trying a round-about way of doing it.

"If I can show her that being a magical girl is simply suffering… would she still do it?"

Probably, if she was forced into it. Homura had to keep Madoka safe, at least until the threat was over. Then, she could rest, and consider her wish fulfilled.

That involved not only keeping Madoka safe, but everyone else as well. It would not be easy… But she had an unlimited amount of tries and retries.

It was almost like a video game with unlimited continues. It never ended unless you yourself wanted it to end. This was a similar idea.

But there was so much pain each time. How many more times could Homura see her friend make that wish? How many more times must she be filled with despair at knowing she was as helpless as she was, when Madoka had first met her?

8:28. Homura put the cup down on the table. She banished the thoughts on her head. She didn't need to think on this part. Thoughts weren't needed in this one. Homura brought the cup to the sink, and washed it.

8:29. The ticking of the clock. Tick. Tock. And the washing of the cup. She got a towel and dried it.

8:30.

* * *

The soldier on duty turned and saluted.

"Sir!"

His commanding officer, a sergeant, nodded. "At ease. This is simply routine inspection."

"Sir, yes sir."

"Care to describe the contents of this room again, soldier?"

"Sir, this is the Fort Base Armory. Inside are 30 disassembled carbines, 30 magazines for said 30 carbines, as well as several ammo boxes, (thirty in all, sir) containing bullets for said carbines."

"What else?"

"Several pounds of C4, as well as various other explosives. RPG rounds, 30 in all, with 10 Launchers for said rounds. Several assortments of side-arms, and such. Grenades as well are stored there, sir, as well as gunpowder and satchel charges with remote detonators."

The sergeant nodded. The soldier opened the door for him, saluted smartly.

The sergeant looked in, around, nodded, and blinked. There were the carbines, the shotguns, the side-arms, the grenades. The C4 was by the corner. The room was in pristine condition.

"Good going, private. This armory is secu—"

The sergeant blinked.

"What in the seven hells—"

The newspaper headlines the next day read "Ghost haunts military base. Armaments disappear under locked guard."

There were more bases which had explosives stolen. Some had them discreetly taken; some were stolen right under their noses. Not all the losses were reported, but all of them wondered what had taken it, and the guards of the military bases would whisper in hushed tones that it was a ghost who had taken it.

A ghost who left no imprint, no shadows. A methodical ghost who took what it wanted.

Certainly, that was the reason why there was 0 evidence left. No fingerprints, save those who investigated it. No footprints. No camera evidence. Nothing.

It was simple miscalculation, they would later tell the press. No need to worry; we found the missing armaments. There was no ghost. Nothing was missed. We booted the one who messed up the inventories.

But the sergeant knew better. They had been sitting there. He hadn't even blinked. They were just gone.

_It's a ghost, I tell you. A real live ghost._

_How else can you explain it? A ghost took it all._

_After all, only a ghost could take those from under my very eyes. An invisible ghost, flowing through the winds, sweeping it all away_ _with no effort, in under the time it took for me to take a breath._

_A ghost._

_A real live ghost, who walks among us._

_A lonely spirit among the living._

* * *

yo, yo. TalkToMoon here.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I positively love how I wrote this, to be honest. Tried my best, hope you enjoyed it~ Nothing too much happened, but it's a setup 8D hueuhehue

I might take a little more time updating this now though. Fate:Alternate needs its next chapter to celebrate its 2 month hiatus, and I'll be scrambling to meet the deadline

:3

Cheers! Hope you enjoyed.

As always, leave a comment/review/yada yada.

See you again soon.

~TalkToMoon


	3. Time X - 1

Madoka woke up that morning, refreshed and happy. Her hair was messed up, jumbled in the way when sleep fancies itself as a hair stylist. Part of her pink hair was flattened against the side of her head like a coconut's shell, while the other was sticking out like hedgehog spines.

She rubbed her eyes gently as she stirred herself out of sleep.

_Fue_.

She looked around her room while the sunlight streamed in, and was glad. She'd had a horrible dream the night before; one of falling clocks, and a darkening shadow looming over her. It had filled her with an unnatural terror, a strange and alien feeling that she had never felt before.

And there was a girl, was it? Formless and sleek, she reminded Madoka very much like sand, sand that, when grasped, would only slip through her fingers and fade away with the wind.

She shook her head. It wasn't good to think those thoughts. It was time to get ready.

She didn't wake up late, but neither was she extremely early. She couldn't afford to dally. She hurriedly went to the bathroom and set up the shower. It was cold that morning and so she opened the heater, relishing the hot water and basking in the steam.

_The shampoo!_

She looked about the bath, frowning. The shampoo was nowhere to be found. The soap was there, but her shampoo wasn't. She was fairly certain she'd just left it within easy reach.

_There!_

The Shampoo was on one of the wooden racks her father had installed months before. The bottle rested just over its edge, and was tipping over slightly. The racks were useful, but her father hadn't taken into account that she could barely reach the rack in the first place.

"You'll grow into it!" he'd said with a grin and a pat on her head.

Right now, Madoka wished she was taller.

Slowly, Madoka went on her tiptoes. Her tongue drooped out of her mouth in concentration as she struggled to reach it. She made a wild grab for it, and missed. She tipped it over the side, and the shampoo bottle fell. Madoka yelped in surprise, waiting for the shampoo to drop on her head.

It was there by the sink.

She blinked several times in disbelief, and looked around. There was no one there. The bottle had been falling. And now, there it was, on the sink.

_W-what was that?_

She poked the bottle a few times to be sure. Madoka was sure that it had been on the rack. Hadn't she been reaching for it before? And now it was just on the sink.

It was weird, to be sure. Madoka gave herself a little slap on the cheek.

_I must still be dreaming, _she thought. _Shampoo bottles don't magically fly to the sink from the rack. I must've been imaging it all._

She nodded and smiled to herself, and had one of the best baths of her life.

* * *

_This is child's play,_ thought Homura Akemi as she impatiently tapped her pen against the desk. She'd been introduced to the class just now, and politely, she had bowed. She'd been the center of attention, but only for a short while. The class calmed down very easily, especially as the initial excitement passed and routine took its course.

Now, it was mathematics again, and Homura was bored.

It was strange, now that she thought about it. She could move time backwards, she could stop time from moving, but she could in no way cause it to move faster. The monotony of it all just caused her to silently bite her lip from time to time.

She avoided looking at her classmates, if she could. It made them uncomfortable, to be stared at by the faceless, emotionless mask she put on everyday, and especially now, when she was still a newcomer.

Sure, they might warm up to her in time, but as of now, she was a stranger, so if she had to look, she'd have to do it while they were busy. Like now.

Homura couldn't help but take a peek around her, a result of her boredom.

Madoka was smiling as she did her work. Homura glanced her way, just to be sure, and there she was, a big grin plastered on her face despite the (relatively) hard problems the teacher had posted just minutes before. Sayaka at the side, however, was almost cursing loudly while trying to solve it. No doubt, if she'd been alone, she'd already be shouting obscenities.

"Homura? Are you well?" The teacher approached her, a concerned look on her face. "You looked like you were troubled."

Speaking as a teacher, she might've been right. Any student would've drawn a queer look from her professor if she'd had Homura's attitude. The intent look she seemed to give everything could draw a reaction from rock.

But Homura Akemi was no student. She was something else entirely.

Still, she supposed, she could pretend. Just this once, she was a student, and not a _magical girl_. She had given up on that identity long ago, but she supposed she could play the role at least one more time.

She shook her head at her teacher and went to work. Her pen made scribbles across the paper as she neatly and efficiently answered them. The teacher nodded in approval and moved onward, looking around the classroom.

Leaning closer to her desk, staring at the paper before her, Homura Akemi smiled a smile that no one saw.

* * *

For Madoka, it was quite possibly one of the most normal weeks of her life.

She met no aliens or zombies that week. There were no love confessions and love letters (those qualified as weird at her age, at the age when girls started looking at boys, and boys started looking at girls, while all the while both genders looked at each other with part suspicion and part dread), no flowers and chocolates. She just had a completely normal week, with each done finished with complete normalcy.

Of course, by normal, she actually meant bizarre, and by bizarre, she meant that all the queer events that started happening one by one suddenly resolved themselves in the most normal of fashions.

She left for school early one morning, walking to class. While walking, a paperboy on his paper-route threw out a newspaper by the side. It came flying towards Madoka's face, and she braced herself in surprise.

_Plop_.

It landed on the doorstep, perfect and pristine, four to five feet away from where Madoka was.

_But I was sure it was going towards me…_

A thief snatched her bag, and she called for him to stop. She was about to shout in anger when she shen stopped herself and she realized that she had had her bag all along. The thief himself, when he turned the corner, grinned madly, then stomped the ground when he realized that the bag he was sure he'd stolen and was just in his hand seconds ago, was now gone.

Yes, it was weird but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

A soccer ball flying towards her stopped and curved right before it hit her. Things she had lost started appearing when she looked for them, and even things as mundane as turning off the heater or turning on the air conditioner started to right themselves, magically opening or closing even when she was sure she had forgotten to do just that.

_It might have something to do with the Extremely Good Luck fortune she had gotten from the shrine the weeks before._

_Yeah, maybe that's it._

"Hey, Sayaka, can I borrow a pen?"

"What for?"

"I seem to have forgotten mine."

"You mean this one here?"

"A—ahahaha! You're right. Sorry to bother you."

"Oh Madoka, you're such a klutz."

Madoka got a vicious head rub in return for that.

Yes, it was a weird week indeed. Things were going perfect for her, and while Madoka was suspicious about it, and rather confused at times, she never thought of it as anything more than a result of her own clumsiness, or blind luck working to her advantage.

After all, it wasn't like she had a guardian angel, right?

* * *

"Ho-Homura-chan?"

The black haired girl stared at her sideways. Her lips curled in a small, derisive smile.

"Good morning." Homura replied briefly and nodded.

Madoka stammered under her gaze, but remained firm. "Ah… No. I was just wondering if you wanted to eat lunch…"

"Some other time, perhaps."

Madoka sighed outwardly. Oh well. It was probably for the best.

"Actually…"

Homura turned and faced her. Madoka found herself a little scared under the stoic girl's glare.

"I do seem to have a bit of free time," she said. "Alright, lunch then."

They both ate a small bento in the school rooftop that morning. Despite her calm gaze, Homura was, to Madoka, a good person inside, and that was what mattered.

The next day, Homura accompanied her, Sayaka and Hitomi to school as well. Sayaka seemed to warm up to her despite her silence, and Hitomi simply smiled and nodded. While she wasn't all that talkative, her presence made Madoka's circle of friends seem bigger and better.

_A perfect week and a new friend. Who could ask for more?_

* * *

"Tell me, Madoka. Is your life happy?"

"Why wouldn't it be, Homura-chan?"

"There might be something you might want, yes? Everyone has something they want. It might be a far-off or impossible dream, but it's still something right?"

"A wish? Everyone has wishes. Everyone has something they want."

"That's right."

_A gentle laugh._

"But for me, I don't really want anything else. I have a family. I have friends. I have games and toys, I have music, I have people who care about me, and people I care about. What more could you ask?"

"Perhaps something amazing. Like a rocket. Or a spaceship. Or perhaps being a princess? Or even… a magical girl, maybe?"

"I don't want any of that, to be honest. Well, I wouldn't mind, but that's not what I would really really want anyhow. I don't need or want anything else. I already have enough."

"I see. That's good to hear then…"

"Why is that?"

"That means that everything's going fine then. Most people who make wishes are people who want something so desperately; they'd gamble it all away for a fantasy if it means getting what they want. Maybe you want something similar."

"I have everything I need right here. I'm a lucky person, you know. Things have been going fine all week. I have everything I could hope for."

"Then life is perfect."

"Not perfect. Nothing's perfect. But my life is going fine. Why would I make a wish for myself when there are so many other people who need it more than I do?"

* * *

Homura Akemi.

Friend to Madoka, Sayaka and Hitomi.

Past friend to Madoka, Sayaka and Hitomi.

Future friend to Madoka, Sayaka and Hitomi.

Was this the right course of action?

She wasn't sure. She wasn't sure if befriending Madoka, if making her life perfect and giving her everything she could want, was the correct thing to do.

But it was her choice.

This was how she rolled the die. This was how she was played her cards. This was how she moved her pieces across the board.

But her opponent, the hands of time, the ever-infuriating wheel of fate, planned its own moves.

Given time, Homura could outwit this opponent. There was no opponent she could not beat. There was no foe she could not figure out.

But did she have the infinite patience required to follow out the branches her actions made in the timeline? Did she have the strength to go through the pain, to dive through the knives once more?

"Homura-chan, we're going to eat lunch. Are you with us?"

Could she see this through to its end, and do it all over again?

"Homura's so slow. Why don't we leave her behind?"

"Sayaka!"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

Why, yes, she could.

"Of course. Let me get my things."

She would do it.

"Oh, Homura-chan. You're smiling!"

"What're you thinking about?"

"Oooohh, is it about someone you like?"

"Is it a boy? A girl?"

"A g-g-giirl? But that's forbidden love!"

"Ah Hitomi, no! We were just joking! Don't run off!"

"Kyaa!"

Yes. She had strength. She would do it, without a doubt, if only to preserve this happiness a little longer.

* * *

HULLO

I was supposed to update Fate/Alternate instead of this, but I found Homura's scenario to be to compelling today, especially with the idea of a perfect day happening in my mind.

Next Chapter has it going back to regular Madoka stuff (aka, nomnomnomnomnMamiWhy) Also, there's no Mami (yet) since she doesn't have the SAVE YOU FROM HOMURA thing.

Hope you enjoyed it. As usual, like, comment, favorite, review, etc etc, if you enjoyed it.

Cheers and another time, perhaps.

~TalkToMoon


	4. Time X - 2

Admittedly, Homura wasn't very good at smiling. Her face would sort of twist into a wistful grimace that one could barely pass off as a smirk. Any normal human would've been frightened at her half-derisive, half-regretful visage.

But now, it was becoming a bad habit. It was something she couldn't get rid of. The good times were making her forget her pain, and thus making her softer.

Just how many times now had she turned away from happiness? How many times had she refrained from talking to people just to make sure Madoka was safe?

How many times had this unfortunate girl given up on things that would make her smile?

And now, to experience it brought a welcome pang in her heart where once only emptiness was present.

"Homura-chan, c'mon!"

"I understand. Sorry for making you wait."

Sayaka stuck out her tongue. "It's getting late, ya know. We won't be able to do anything if we take too long to get there."

Madoka frowned. "But I don't think we should hurry. We have more than enough time to get there."

"We have less time than you think, actually," Homura smiled a little. It was a private joke that the others wouldn't understand, and they didn't.

"Did that history lesson really get to you?"

"No, not really."

"Well, it was rather graphic, to be honest."

Hitomi looked a little green as she remembered. "I didn't think they'd actually teach us about something like that. Life can be cruel sometimes."

Homura nodded. They had studied history that morning and learned about the Sengoku period. Many lives were lost during that troubled time, and the thought of those killed in the epitomic battle of Sekigahara, and the lesson, that great pain was needed for great change, was graphic and memorable to their impressionable young minds.

Those were the things that were burned in her friends' brains. Not to hers, however.

While they would point out that war was cruel, that sometimes, the minds of man worked in mysterious and oftentimes malicious ways, the lesson Homura learned was simple.

Life was cruel. Life was pain. Sometimes, it could be generous. She did not doubt that. But these were simply small respites before it introduced new pain to her. Why else would it introduce men of dubious intentions into places of power? Why else would it allow all of these, if it wasn't a private trickster, a bad jokester, a mean prankster?

This doesn't mean that she lost hope, however. Homura never lost hope. It just meant that she accepted the harsh lesson that life, and by extent, her own powers, taught her.

"It's okay guys!" Sayaka went behind Madoka, placed her hands behind her back, and pushed her forward. "Let's just go go go! The faster we get there, the earlier we can sing!"

"W-wait!"

Sayaka sped off with Madoka, and Hitomi trailed behind, her arms waving frantically after the pair. "W-wait you guys! What're you doing? Don't hurry like that!"

Homura couldn't resist smiling another time.

This was what passed as her life now.

A trip to the karaoke, singing with friends. Would she ever have another chance of doing this? And if so, what was the price of this momentary happiness? What was she using to buy this time with her friends?

It was all so different from the pain she was accustomed to.

They were able to rent out a room, and got there before the clock struck four. The karaoke place was actually a nice one. It was a building with several smaller sound-proof rooms, all of which contained television sets, microphones, chairs, tables and couches. There was a phone where you could order refreshments and have it delivered, and not only was it secure, it was also tidy and clean.

Sayaka instantly plopped herself on the couch,and stretched her arms. It was home away from home for her.

Hitomi balked at it, though. Especially at the stage's setup. At the corner of the room was the stage, where the microphones stood. It was a step higher than the floor, and when the lights were turned off, the spotlights would flicker to life, and bathe the stage in colours.

"What song should we sing? Uuuuu…"

"Something from Aya Hirano? Or how about Ueda Kana?"

"ClariS!"

"Any suggestions, Homura?"

Homura shook her head. No matter how many times she went back, she never found the time to listen to songs. It had always been about her mission. It had always been about protecting her friends — protecting Madoka.

Now, Homura found herself at a loss for words. Her calm demeanor hid the frantic pacing of her heart, but she still found herself tongue-tied at anything.

"A song…?"

"Yeah, what song do you want to sing?"

"I…"

"Homura-chan, do you want to sing first? It's okay if you don't." Madoka smiled at her. Homura didn't want to disappoint her, especially after all the support her friend gave her.

"No— I will sing. It's fine."

Homura took the songlist from Hitomi's hands. Her eyes scanned the pages, and her lips pursed in thought. What was a good song?

She didn't know most of them. She wasn't a singer type, anyway, so she based her choice on the song's title.

Something apt for the change. Her fingers traced the songbook, and she herself drawn to a song.

"Huh? What did you choose?"

"Kokoro? Isn't that from the Vocaloid? Kagamine Rin, right?"

"Ooh! I love that song! I never knew you had a romantic side in you, Homura-chan."

"A-ah, it's nothing." Homura kept herself from blushing. But it was alright, wasn't it? She didn't have to be so reserved now. Now was the time to relax so, letting a little colour into her cheeks would be fine.

"I wonder who you're singing it to. There must be a boy you like," Sayaka grinned. Madoka and Hitomi gave her a withering stare. "I was only joking!"

Sayaka raised her arms in defeat, smiling sheepishly in the meantime.

_Oh Homura. You let your guard down, and you're only inviting pain. _A voice inside her chided her maliciously.

_No. I will change her fate, and keep her safe,_ Homura swore to herself.

"Now, now. Go on! Sing!"

Hitomi turned off the lights while Sayaka pushed her on stage. Madoka gave her a smile in support as the tv's static toned down to play the song.

The harsh light glared in Homura's eyes, but even the stage light dimmed as the spotlights lost focus. It was completely dark save for the television being on. It basked the four girls in an eerie glow, and to any spectator, Homura must've been like a wraith at that point, a shadow's figure flaring against the background of the tv's light.

Homura looked blankly around, seeing her three friends stare up at her expectantly, eyes gleaming. The television flashed, and slowly, the music started to play its soft tune. The music was filled with regret and longing, the tones entering into everyone's heart.

Homura's feet trembled slightly although she gave no sign of being afraid. Rather, the only thing that showed her discomfort was how she bit her lips slightly. Suddenly, the tempo shifted, and the lyrics appeared on screen. Her eyes traced the words softly as she read the flashing words and sang in tune.

"_I'm a simple robot made by man_

_A scientist as lonely as I am_

_My birth, a miracle of life, a marvel"_

"_But there was one thing that he couldn't make_

_Something that a robot couldn't take_

_And that was the 'heart' and 'mind' and 'soul' program "_

The tv pusled a bright white. It startled Homura, but she blinked her eyes. A figure came on screen. The Vocaloid Rin looked around with blank eyes that expected and wanted nothing. Her simple figure, and the way her lonely form almost blending in with the light touched Homura deeply.

It was almost as if she was lost, Homura thought. She could empathize with the figure. Such a lonely existence, to be alone, to feel nothing.

But feeling nothing was easy. Being alone was easy, if you never knew what company felt like.

"_A hundred years passed, so slowly_

_Left alone for eternity _

_The life that was made, the miracle one_

_Hopes alone"_

"_I want to know all of what he was_

_Of what the man did, and what his program does_

_To a flawed one like me, this miracle work_

_This Kokoro (heart)"_

_I want to know what it feels like to have a heart._ Homura's mind echoed along with her words. The Vocaloid on screen paled visibly as lights surrounded her. The stage lights flickered in a soft array of flickering yellow, blue and green lights.

"_Beating hard and fast, a faint pounding_

_The miracle is stirring within_

_Why is it that my tears fall, and I can't stop?"_

"_Why do I tremble, as I sing_

_My heart's beat accelerating_

_Is this what he sought to give to me,_

_A soul, mind, Kokoro…."_

A soul.

A mind.

A heart.

How much did she have, this empty shell?

The Vocaloid danced on screen. Her body moved in a soft, gentle rhythm in contrast with the music's fast pace. It was a beautiful paradox, her slow movements, her swaying body, emphasizing the words she sang.

"_A wondering heart_

_A heart of wonders_

_I know what it means to feel happy"_

"_A wandering heart_

_A heart that wanders_

_I know what it means to feel unhappy "_

"_A wonderful heart_

_An infinite heart_

_How deep and hard is it to feel all your life"_

There was a lot of pain in life. Too much. Too many. There were problems because of it, and barely any answers to the constant ache in the chest.

But how much worth was it, to feel both pain and pleasure?

How much would one risk to know happiness, even at the cost of sadness?

There was a kinship in this song. A quiet kinship that she shared with the fictional character onscreen. Though the character was simply pixels, she felt that there was no other who could.

"_Now I understand why I was born_

_The man, alone, and so forlorn"_

"_Being all alone must be so sad"_

**Being alone… must be so sad.**

"_Yes, all my thoughts, in all of those days_

_Whenever I remember his face_

_My heart beats and stirs,_

_Overflowing"_

A fountain of emotion burst from within both singer and dancer. The music blared on the tv's speakers, loud and intoxicating. The dancer, the Vocaloid, in a shower of flowers and flower petals, stretched her arms towards the screen. Homura, standing in the tv's shadow, mimicked her movements, and as one, they sang.

"_Now my heart speaks_

_For the first time_

_I give to you all of my heart"_

Everything, if you want it. Everything is not enough to say thank you.

"_Thank you so much_

_Thank you so much_

_For giving me a life in this world, a purpose"_

_**Thank you.**_

"_Thank you so much_

_Thank you so much_

_For all the days we spent together"_

_**Thank you.**_

"_Thank you so much_

_Thank you so much_

_For all the things that you gave me, for the gifts"_

_**Thank you.**_

"_Thank you so much_

_Thank you so much_

_I will sing your song with all my heart"_

_**Thank you.**_

"_Thank you so much_

_Thank you so much_

_Lalalalallaa"_

"_I will sing your song."_

_**Forever.**_

The music tapered off. The Vocaloid went to her knees and looked up at the sky. She stretched her arms and fell backwards. Her figure disappeared in the flowers as the song ended. The TV screen faded to black. The lights went on again, and Homura, unsure of what to do, stood there blankly, stopping the trembling of her feet.

Madoka, Sayaka and Hitomi stood up, clapping their hands.

"W-why are you all," Homura stammered. She gripped the microphone tightly, unconsciously embarrassed at herself. She raised her arms in defense as Sayaka eagerly patted Homura's head.

"You did great, Homu-chan!"

"Wahhhh that was beautiful!"

Something blurred Homura's vision.

"You were great, Homura-chan. Don't cry, alright?"

They closed in around her for a group hug, and for a second, Homura hesitated.

She could've stopped time and maintained her cold composure. She could do that. No one would ever know.

And yet, Homura found a strange comfort in the emotions bubbling inside her gut. There was a weird longing inside her that begged to be consoled by the protective thoughts of her friends.

_This is all wrong_, she thought. _Why must it hurt so?_

_I'm supposed to be the strong one here. I can ignore the pain if it wasn't like this._

_But…_

_Why?_

There was blurriness in her eyes. Her straight face cracked just a little, the perfect façade flawed by the single tear drop falling from her face.

Beyond her tear-stained vision, she saw Madoka smile innocently at her in congratulation.

"Congratulations, Homura-chan."

Homura Akemi burst into tears.

"Thank you… for everything," she whispered.

The warm embrace of her friends cheered her on, even as Sayaka stepped up to the stage and prepped a new song.

"Alright! My turn!"

Homura coulldn't help grinning ear to ear.

* * *

_Tomoe Mami , you are perfect._

_Really?_

_Why, yes! Look at your beautiful hair, perfect smile, and shining eyes. They are like the stars in the sky._

_You're joking._

_No, I'm not. You're beautiful. Would you be my girlfriend?_

_Yes! I now have a boyfriend… All because of this new and fragrant cologne—_

"Miss? Your change."

Mami snapped out of her semi-dazed, daydreaming state. The girl on the tv hugged her now-boyfriend as the cologne commercial came to an end.

"Sorry," she smiled half-heartedly. "I dozed off." The cashier simply grunted, not even meeting her eyes. Mami found herself a little sad at that.

_Am I ugly then? _she thought sadly. She took the paper bag from the counter, keeping it close to her chest and holding it with both hands.

Her pigtails bounced. She took a moment to adjust her hair, and shifted her weight slightly to incorporate her stride.

A few of her schoolmates passed her. They weren't part of her class, but Mami thought she recognized a few of them by face. There were four of them.

They looked like they had a fun time, all smiles and giggles. For a moment, Mami smiled blankly, imaging herself to be part of the group. That delusion passed all too quickly, however, as the girls passed her by.

"Good evening," Mami curtsied as best as she could. The group nodded at her greeting. One of them stared at Mami with an odd look, the stoic gaze examining her closely.

"Good evening," one of the replied back. One of the girls pushed the other forward. Another verbally protested at it, and all of them laughed as they moved on.

These were the things that Mami longed for. Just a friend to have fun with. Sadly, these were things that Mami found she could not have.

Was it her own fault then?

Was she not trusting?

Her thoughts echoing in the recesses of her mind, Mami went back to her apartment. She set the groceries on the counter and turned on some music. The drone of the violin only emphasized the great loneliness she felt.

She undid her pigtails, and let her hair fall out, straight and true. Yes, Tomoe Mami _was_ beautiful. It was plainly seen. Her eyes sparkled with longing and sadness as she stared up at the sky, and under the twinkle of the stars, that night, her hair shone as bright as the sun in her dark apartment room.

But there was none who could console her saddened heart. There was no lover to hold onto her, no childhood crush to make her feel better, and no friend to console her. There wasn't even a mother or a father she could turn to. Those were things she had once had, and things she never had, and both stung her deeply.

"What is it that I am here for?"

In the darkness, her Soul Gem shined bright. She held unto it, holding it in her palm, watching the glow dim slowly. The Soul Gem wasn't as pure as it was before, but the wisps of darkness she saw at the corners of her eyes did nothing to dim the lightness of her heart.

She clenched her fist, watching her hands extinguish the light. She opened and closed it repeatedly, and with each time, she saw the Soul Gem grow darker.

_What does it all mean?_

Nothing, of course. Mami smiled to herself. She threw her arms sidewards. The Soul Gem tumbled to the floor. She stared up at the sky, her eyes dripping tears, and she let out a howl. She threw herself back into the darkness, shedding tears as she ran.

And all the while, the Soul Gem she abandoned twinkled on the floor, growing fainter by the moment.

This was the sadness of Tomoe Mami taking form. No friends. No family. No loved ones to care for her. There was no reprieve, and unlike Homura, whose pain self-inflicted, this was a pain that Mami could not escape from.

Whether through her own fault, or the fault of another, Tomoe Mami was alone, and would stay alone.

Some stories, however, need not be told.

Some stories are unimportant in the schemes of time.

This is one such story. Lost in the folds of time, no one would ever know her pain, and failing to see the light, Tomoe Mami, the girl with the gentle smile, dug her own grave, and lay there, waiting for the end.

* * *

Hello!~

Took a while. People are asking for the FSN one to continue as well

OTL I'll get to it. I promise. Been sick for a while, and it's a rough month.

Hope you enjoyed :D Till next time!

I really enjoyed writing Time X, and I have an ending for this timeline already. Hopefully, it won't disappoint ; n;

Cheers!

~TalkToMoon


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